First we see a montage of Daniel against a black screen, stringed together by someone who seemingly just discovered iMovie (or whatever they had back in 2002) for the very first time. Then cue cheesy dance-in-some-clouds-with-an-unbuttoned-shirt-flapping-in-the-wind moment. Oh look, now he looks like some kind of prodigy, scrawling undistinguishable markings on the wall with a serious look on his face. But if you were Stateside, you got to see a forlorn love story, as told by a leather jacket-donning Bedingfield. We don’t know which is worse, really.